What Kind Of Girl Should I Be?
by Beatrix Bloxam
Summary: The story of the other girl who loved James- the other side of James' obsession with Lily. Told first person from the other girl, the one James didn't love.


This is a songfic about the other girl who loved James; kind of the other side of James' obsession with Lily. Lyrics are from Bree Sharp's "Not Your Girl" which is NOT mine; I'm merely borrowing it. Ditto goes for any characters you recognize from JK Rowling's stuff On that note... Enjoy!   
  
-Trinity   
  


_What kind of girl should I be  
The kind of girl who doesn't see  
That you're looking at me  
Like you want to be seeing someone else  
Somebody else_

  
  
It's a well-known fact that James Potter is in love with Lily Evans. Maybe not in love, but he has a serious thing for her. Everyone knows that. I know that. So why am I in a broom closet with him, his hands up my shirt and his lips on my neck? Good question.  
  
It's a lesser-known fact that I have a thing for James Potter. Sure, a whole lot of girls like him, and would love to be in my position. But for them, it's kind of a passing fancy. If he doesn't look at them- if his eyes see through them, look right past- they move on. I can't. They all know that he's taken- as soon as Lily takes him, we're history. I know that. I just can't help it.  
  
So when he looks at me- gives me that look, that look that says I'm very attractive and he'd like to have his way with me- I can't help but respond, can't help but let him lead me on, around in circles.  
  
That's what happened last week. He came up to me, started flirting with me, giving me that "come screw me" look. I saw him glancing at Lily, hoping she'd get jealous, hoping she'd notice. I knew he was using me to get at her. But I didn't care. No, I did care. But I couldn't help it. I let him lead me on.  
  


_I stutter like a broken clutch  
When you touch me too much  
My tongue gets twisted in your twirl  
You say I'm not your kind of girl_

  
  
When he cornered me after class, I knew it was because Lily was right behind him, because she was sure to see his antics. I played along. I couldn't say no. I couldn't help but say yes. So guess what happened when, halfway back to the common room, he dragged me into a broom closet. Did I say no, object, protest? Of course not. And he's a good kisser. And I love his hands.  
  
I knew, even as he was kissing me, caressing me, that he was hoping Lily would walk in on us, find us like that. He hoped she would be jealous. He didn't care what I felt. Then again, I was as much a player as he was, so why should he think differently?  
  
_

A spider underneath my skin  
I want you out, I want you in  
The venom and the vaccine swirl  
You say I'm not your kind of girl

_  
  
It would have been fine if that was it. But it wasn't. Two weeks later, and he's still dragging me into broom closets. We're officially dating now. He asked, I agreed, and we're public. But I know it's still only about Lily. He still looks at her when we're kissing. He still knows where she is, even when he doesn't know where I am. Or that I'm watching him. He still flirts with her when he doesn't think I'm around.  
  
I know it's all a front, all BS. We don't talk. He doesn't know that I have two brothers, and that my sister died when she was a year old. He doesn't know that I'm a half-blood, or that my muggle cousins think I'm the best thing ever. He doesn't know that I like to dance. He doesn't know that I can't dance to save my life. He doesn't know that I love muggle theatre. He doesn't know that I hate Charms. He doesn't know that my best friend is Dory. He doesn't know that I'm jealous of Lily, because of the affections he has toward her.  
  
He does know that I study once a week with Lily. He does know that we like to talk about the similarities between muggle sports and Quidditch. He does know that Lily's favorite color is also mine. He does know that she thinks I'm funny. He does know that I'm Lily's supplier of Sugar Quills. He does know that Lily borrows my boots sometimes. He doesn't know that she doesn't give them back.  
  
I hate that. I hate that everything he knows about me is in connection with Lily. I hate that while I have his physical affections, I don't have his love, his care, his affection. I hate that he's using me. I hate thinking about that day, not very long from now, when he'll say he's sorry, but we're just not working out. I hate that he uses girls like me to get to Lily. I hate that it's not working. I hate that she doesn't like him. I hate that she ignores all his attempts. I hate that she blows off his affections, that she doesn't care about them. I'd love to have them.  
  


_What kind of girl should I be  
The kind of girl who doesn't see  
That you're looking at me  
Like you want to be seeing someone else  
Somebody else_

  
  
We're in the closet again. He's kissing my neck, his hands are creeping up my back, his legs are straddling me. I'm leaning against the wall, my hands playing in his hair, grabbing the back of his head, my right foot sliding up and down his calf. I would be in heaven, except I know he's just going through the motions. He doesn't really care if I'm enjoying myself. He doesn't really care about me. He's thinking about her. He's thinking about what Lily would do in this situation. He's thinking about what her back would feel like, how her neck would taste, how her hair would smell. He's thinking about what her hands would feel like in his hair, what she would be doing with her hands. How can I enjoy myself when he's thinking that?  
  
_

You rip the sureness from my stare  
And throw the pieces in the air  
Your fingers string me like a pearl  
You say I'm not your kind of girl

_  
  
I asked him today if he was serious about me. He was surprised. He told me he didn't want a serious relationship. I wanted to say that he was waiting for Lily for that kind of relationship. But I didn't. He said he wanted to have fun. He thought we could have fun together. I agreed. We could. We would, if he would get his mind off Lily. Then again, we would also have fun if I were cloned into seventeen replicas. That's about as likely to happen. He said he couldn't get into a serious relationship with me. That I wasn't really his kind of girl. I know what that means. I'm not Lily. I could have told him that.  
  
_

It's not a secret anymore   
What you keep me around for  
As my excuses all unfurl  
I'm not that kind of kind of girl

_  
  
I should end it. I should tell him to go lead on some other poor girl. That I'm not going to put up with it. But I do. Because I like him a lot, and I couldn't say no. I can't. Even if I'm not his kind of girl. Even if he keeps me around as entertainment, to amuse him when he can't get Lily. As an outlet for his sexual frustrations. Because she wouldn't stand for it. Maybe that's why I'm not his kind of girl. I put up with the things she wouldn't. Then again, he's already got one girl who won't sleep with him. What does he need two for?  
  
I love his eyes. They're gorgeous and deep and penetrating. He gazes at Lily, and you could get lost in them. He doesn't look at me like that. His eyes harden a little, they grow a little colder, a little less welcoming. He doesn't see me when he looks at me. He sees Lily. And he sees how she's not there, gazing back. He sees how she's not me. When he looks at me, I can tell he's seeing something else. And I wish he would see someone other than Lily. I wish he could see someone other than her. I wish he could see somebody else. Like me.  
  
I'm not his kind of girl. I don't know how to be his kind of girl. His kind of girl is Lily. His kind of girl wouldn't' put up with this. His kind of girl would see what he wants from her, and end it. His kind of girl has willpower. I'm not his kind of girl. I see that he's looking at me and seeing someone else. I see that I'm not the girl on his mind. Maybe if I didn't see that, if I didn't know the truth, he'd like me better. Maybe I'd be his kind of girl then.  
  
If he told me what he wanted, what kind of girl he wanted, I could be it. I'm sure. I could do it. I wouldn't mind. But he'd never do that. He'd deny my accusations, he'd deny what I know is true. Besides, I know what his kind of girl is. It's Lily.  
  
_

What kind of girl should I be  
The kind of girl who doesn't see  
That you're looking at me  
Like you want to be seeing someone else  
Somebody else

_  
  
I confronted him today. A month of being led on, of knowing that I was a poor substitute for Lily, that he wasn't seeing me when he looked at me, and I finally confronted him. He was surprised. I told him I wasn't going to stand in for Lily anymore. Either he had to stop thinking about Lily all the time- stop wishing I was her- or it was over. I was leaving. I knew he'd never stop thinking about her. He understood, I think. He didn't deny it. He apologized, and said he hoped I could forgive him. He said it wasn't something he had control over. I believed him. I know it isn't. It tears him up. I forgave him, and said I'd always be around to hang out with him or something. He said he appreciated that. But he won't. He spends too much time trying to get Lily. He doesn't have time for someone like me, someone who's not his kind of girl.  
  
_

What kind of girl should I be  
The kind of girl who doesn't see  
That you're looking at me  
Like you want to be seeing someone else  
Somebody else

_  
  
James came to the common room door today. He wanted to see me. We went for a walk. He said he missed me- that we never had many deep discussions, but that we could. And he talked. We talked. He knows about my family now, about my dancing habits and how I like theatre. I know about his family and his childhood and how he's completely in love with Lily. I told him to back off. To leave her alone. To try and become a friend. A friend is the best way to become a lover, I told him. This surprised him, but he said it made sense. Maybe he'll have better luck from now on. I'm his confidant now. He talks to me about Lily- he can't talk to anyone else like that.  
  
I have to admit, when I told him the best way to become a lover is to become a friend... I was hoping that by us becoming friends, he would love me. It won't happen, I know now. He's in love with Lily. He always will be. She's slowly turning- he's being nicer, less of an ass, and she's noticing. She talks to me about it occasionally. I say he's making an effort to be a good guy. And maybe she should try talking to him. She's still skeptical, but I think it'll work out.  
  
_

I want you to see somebody else

_  
  
I'm still hung up on him. I still wish he would come up to me, kiss me senseless and confess his love to me. I miss kissing him in the closets. I miss being with him in the middle of the night. I miss the relationship we had, although the friendship we have now is much better- it's real. And it's good. But it's not enough for me. It will never be enough. But he'll never change- he'll never fall for me instead of Lily. It's always been about her; it always will be. I have to come to terms with that.  
  
But at least now, he doesn't look at me and wish I was someone else. He doesn't look through me. He doesn't look at me and think about Lily. He doesn't have to tell me I'm not his kind of girl. I know that. And I don't try to change. I don't want to be Lily. And he doesn't want me to be either. When he looks at me, he sees me. I'm still the kind of girl who sees he's looking and wishing he saw something else. But he's not looking at me. And he's not wishing it was Lily. He's looking at her, now. He's seeing her. And he doesn't wish she was anyone else.  
  
---- 


End file.
